Knave Of Hearts. Shari Anton

the intrusion, Marian. I obviously mistook your chamber for that of another. Do you happen to know where its former occupant might be?”

      She stared at him, long and hard. “You look for Carolyn?”

      Wary, he nodded.

      Without a hint of surprise or anger, which might be expected of a former lover, she said, “Then you are in the right chamber. Unfortunately, my cousin is not here.” She waved at the door. “Kindly wait without.”

      Marian and Carolyn were cousins? They shared these quarters? Stephen pushed aside further questions. Those were for Carolyn to answer, not Marian.

      “As you wish. Truly, I did not mean to disturb you, Marian, only talk to Carolyn.”

      Marian scoffed. “Talk?”

      “Aye, talk,” he said. “If you will recall, you and I managed to do some of that, too.”

      “You talked. I listened. For all my devoted attention you dismissed me without so much as the courtesy of a farewell.”

      True enough. She’d listened, fascinated by his tales of the many places he’d been, and especially about those he yet wished to visit. He’d forgotten how good a companion she’d been, but then, he truly hadn’t thought about Marian in years. He’d been too busy traveling to all of those exotic places he’d told her about. She was wrong about dismissing her lightly, however. Surely, someone had explained to her why he’d left her father’s estate so quickly.

      “We were denied the chance to part company as we should. I am sorry for that,” he said.

      He took a step forward, knowing he shouldn’t touch her, yet reached out to brush at a lock of silky hair that threatened to cover Marian’s eyes. She jerked back and looked away. Her recoil hurt, sharper and deeper than it should. His offending fingers curled into his palm.

      “Rather too late for apologies, is it not?” she asked.

      Apparently so, and for that he was sorry, too.

      “Fare thee well, Marian.”

      Chapter One

      July, 1109

      Marian didn’t have to look up from her embroidery to know which of her twin daughters entered the hut. Audra’s leather sandals slapped the hard-packed dirt floor with the purposeful steps of someone much older than five summers. Had it been the other twin, Lyssa, the footfalls would have landed light and quick.

      Flipping her raven braid behind her, Audra sat at the table and propped her chin in her hands. Well acquainted with her daughter’s pout, Marian pursed her lips to withhold a smile. Apparently, Lyssa was doing something Audra didn’t approve of. Not unusual.

      Bowing to the inevitable, Marian asked, “Where is Lyssa?”

      “Playing on the stone fence.” Audra’s tone suggested Lyssa receive a scolding, which Marian wasn’t about to do. Though she didn’t completely approve of Lyssa’s daring, she could hardly deny the girl one of the few joys in her life.

      As different as night and day, were her girls. Though they looked so alike most people couldn’t tell one from the other, their temperaments distinguished them as no physical trait could. Audra would never scramble up on the stones and walk along the top of the fence, not for fear of falling off but out of disdain for such unladylike behavior. Lyssa inevitably forswore dignity when a fence wanted climbing, a mud puddle must be run through, or a twin sister needed irritating.

      Most often the twins balanced each other. Lyssa sometimes heeded Audra’s cautions, which prevented the bold twin from courting disaster. Audra sometimes got caught up in Lyssa’s gleeful view of life, which kept the solemn twin from becoming dour.

      Usually, as happened last night, when Lyssa’s headaches stole away the sparkle in her eyes, Audra sat next to her twin’s pallet, quietly holding her sister’s hand.

      With an inward sigh, Marian acknowledged that the long, vexing trip to Westminster with Lyssa had proved a failure. They’d endured the journey’s physical hardships, the sorrow of leaving Audra behind and the annoyance of Carolyn’s almost constant company, all for naught. Marian had so hoped the London physician would provide a cure for Lyssa’s headaches. Though Lyssa obediently downed the powders and herb mixtures the physician claimed would help, the headaches still struck hard and without warning. In the three months since returning home, Lyssa had suffered two bouts of pain no treatment seemed to ease.

      If Lyssa felt well enough to walk along the fence this morn, Marian wouldn’t call her down until necessary.

      She slid the needle into the pristine white linen, wishing she could set the altar cloth aside and join her girls out of doors. Unfortunately, the altar cloth she decorated—a gift from her uncle, William de Grasse, to the Archbishop of York—must be completed and taken to Branwick Keep today.

      So she’d comply. Uncle William asked so little of her in return for his protection. ’Twas the least she could do for the man who’d seen to her welfare when she’d desperately needed shelter and succor.

      “Do not fret, Audra. Lyssa will come down from the fence when she is ready. You have finished your chores?”

      Audra’s head bobbed. “Aye. I fed the chickens and Lyssa tied the goat to graze. Truly, Mama, when you finish the altar cloth we can leave for the keep. Shall I tell Lyssa to come in to make ready?”

      “Not quite yet.” Marian again stifled a smile, this time at Audra’s sigh. “Go out and enjoy the sunshine. I shall call you both when I am finished.”

      Audra got up and slowly headed for the door. Then she stopped and turned. “Mayhap we should gather eggs for his lordship. He enjoys them, does he not?”

      Audra knew very well William did, and Marian thought her daughter’s ploy to get Lyssa down from the stone fence just might work. That William would be delighted with the gift of the eggs only made the offer more appealing.

      “He will be well pleased, Audra.”

      The girl wasted no time in grabbing a basket and scurrying out of the hut, calling her sister’s name.

      Marian gave in to both her mirth and curiosity. She set aside the altar cloth and took the few steps necessary to see out the open door, yet not be noticed easily.

      Lyssa took the bait of an egg hunt and scrambled down off of the fence. Their black braids bouncing on the backs of their brown tunics, the girls hurried toward the long grass beyond the garden where an egg or two would likely be found.

      Sweet heaven, how she adored the tykes, despite the trials of raising them on her own. Now, she couldn’t imagine life without them, when once, as a young and naive girl, she’d envisioned her life far differently.

      Marian shook her head. What was past was past. She usually managed to get through weeks on end without thinking of those days before the twins were born—until lately. The memories came more often, she knew, because she’d seen Stephen again.

      Stephen—standing before her in the palace bedchamber, partially disrobed, his arms outstretched.

      The knave. He’d fully expected her to step into his embrace as if the years gone by had never happened, as if they’d parted on the best of terms. Knowing full well the impact of his charms, and having heard tales of his recent amorous exploits from Carolyn, Marian didn’t doubt Stephen simply accepted female adoration as his normal due.

      Thankfully, she’d been too shocked at seeing him and too concerned over protecting Lyssa that she hadn’t done his bidding. Under other circumstances…No, never again would she willingly court such heartbreak.

      Marian took a steadying breath, fetched the altar cloth and resumed stitching. The last gold cross was nearly done.

      The motions she was sure she could do in her sleep soon lulled her into a familiar calm, heedless of all but the slip of needle